The fellow's meaning was too clear to be mistaken, and for some time Whitley remained silent. He was thinking hard. At last he said: "Jake, I'll tell you something. The boys are mistaken. I'm not here to get anybody into trouble, but because I'm in a hole myself."

"As how?" asked Jake, moving nearer and speaking in a lower tone.

"I won't tell you how unless you'll help me; and if you will, I'll pay you more money than you can make in this business in a thousand years."

The moonshiner's eyes gleamed. "Bill Davis is sure after us an' that thar' means trouble every time," he said slowly. "Ye heard him say as how he'd see me agin, an' I never knowed him ter miss befo'." He looked at the bullet mark on the tree again. "Tell ye what, Mister Whitley, I'll chance her; but we ain't got no time ter talk now. We gotter git away from here, fer some er the boys 'll be along purty quick. We'll just mosey 'round fer a spell an' then go back ter th' corners. I'll send th' boys off on er hot chase en' fix Sim so's ye kin git erway t'-night, an' ye come ter my shack; hit's on th' river below that hill with the lone tree on top, jes' seven mile from th' corners. Ye can't miss. .h.i.t. I'll be thar an' have things fixed so's we kin light out befo' th' boys git back."

They reached Simpson's in time for dinner and Jake held a long whispered conversation with that worthy, while Jim sat on the porch after the meal.

As Jake pa.s.sed him on his way to the mule that stood hitched in front of the blacksmith shop as usual, he said, in the hearing of those near: "Hit's all right fer to-morrow, is. .h.i.t, Mister Whitley? An' we'll go over tother side Sandy Ridge?"

The words "all right" were accompanied by a wink that Whitley understood.

"Yes," he answered carelessly, "I'll be ready. I want to rest this afternoon and get a good sleep tonight. I'll be with you in the morning."

Jake rode off, and all the rest of the day Whitley felt that he was the mark for many scowling glances, while many whispered words were pa.s.sed between the gaunt natives as they slouched in and out of the post office. Later, when the loafers had seemingly disappeared, Simpson came, and leaning carelessly against the door post within a few feet of Whitley, said, in a low voice: "They's a watchin' ye from th' shop yonder; be keerful an' don't let on. Yer hoss is tied in th' bresh down th' road a piece. Ride easy fer th' first mile."

Jim rose slowly to his feet, and stretching his arms above his head, yawned noisily. "Guess I'll turn in," he said. And then as he pa.s.sed Simpson, he put a roll of bills into his hand. The landlord stepped out on the porch and took the chair Whitley had just left, while that gentleman slipped quietly out by the back door and crept away to his horse.

An hour later, Whitley knocked at the door of the cabin on the river bank and was admitted by Jake.

"Did ye make hit all right?" the mountaineer asked, as Jim entered.

The other nodded. "Simpson is sitting on the front porch and I'm supposed to be in bed."

Jake chuckled. "Cap an' th' boys air way up th' holler after Bill Davis, an' I'm in the bresh er watchin' you. Now let's git down ter biz right sharp."

Whitley soon told enough of his story, omitting names and places, to let his companion understand the situation.

When he had finished, Jake took a long pull from a bottle, and then said slowly: "An' ye want me ter put that feller what holds th' papers out o' yer' way?"

Whitley nodded. "It'll pay you a lot better than shooting government agents, and not half the risk."

"What'll ye give me?"

"You can name your own price?"

The outlaw's face glittered and he answered in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, "I'll do hit. What's his name, an' whar'll I find him?"

"Richard Falkner. He lives in Boyd City--"

Slowly the man who had just agreed to commit a murder for money rose to his feet and stepped backward until half the width of the room was between them.

The other, alarmed at the expression in his companion's face, rose also, and for several minutes the silence was only broken by the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace, the shrill chirp of a cricket and the plaintive call of a whip-poor-will from without.

Then with a look of superst.i.tious awe and terror upon his thin face, the moonshiner gasped, in a choking voice, "Boyd City--Richard Falkner--Mister, aint yo' mistaken? Say, ar' ye right shor'?"

Whitley replied, with an oath, "What's the matter with you? You look as though you had seen a ghost."

The ignorant villain started and glanced over his shoulder to the dark corner of the cabin; "Thar' might be a ha'nt here, shor' 'nough," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely. "Do yo' know whar' ye air, Mister?"

Then as Whitley remained silent, he continued: "This here's th' house whar' d.i.c.kie Falkner war' borned; an' whar' his mammy died; an'--an'

I'm Jake Tompkins; me 'n his daddy war' pards."

Whitley was dazed. He looked around the room as though in a dream; then slowly he realized his situation and a desperate resolve crept into his heart. Carefully his hand moved beneath his coat until he felt the handle of a long knife, while he edged closer to his companion.

The other seemed not to notice, and continued, as though talking to himself: "Little d.i.c.kie Falkner. Him what fed me when I war' starvin', an' gimme his last nickel when he war' hungry hisself; an' yo' want me ter kill him."--He drew a long shuddering breath. "Mister, yo' shor'

made 'er bad mistake this time."

"I'll fix it though," cried Whitley; and with an awful oath he leaped forward, the knife uplifted.

But the keen eye of the man used to danger, had seen his stealthy preparation, and his wrist was caught in a grasp of iron.

The city-bred villain was no match for his mountain-trained companion and the struggle was short.

Keeping his hold upon Whitley's wrist, Jake threw his long right arm around his antagonist and drew him close, in a crushing embrace. Then, while he looked straight into his victim's fear-lighted eyes, he slowly forced the uplifted hand down and back.

Whitley struggled desperately, but his left arm was pinned to his side and he was held as in a circle of steel. In vain he writhed and twisted; he was helpless in the powerful grasp of the mountaineer. Slowly the hand that held the knife was forced behind him. He screamed in pain.

The glittering eyes that looked into his never wavered. Jake's right hand behind his back, touched the knife, and Whitley saw that evil, mirthless grin come on the cruel face, so close to his own. The grip on his wrist tightened. Slowly his arm was twisted until his fingers loosened the hold of the weapon, and the handle of the knife was transferred to the grasp of the man who held him. Then there were two quick, strong thrusts, a shuddering, choking cry, and the arms were loosed as the stricken man fell in a heap on the cabin floor, on the very spot where years before, the dying mother had prayed: "Oh Lord, take ker' o' d.i.c.k."

"You--have--killed--me--"

"I reckon that's about hit, Mister."

"Tell--Falkner--I--lied--Amy--is--pure--and tell--"

But the sentence was never finished.

CHAPTER XXIII

After several weeks of careful investigation and study of the conditions and needs of Boyd City, along the lines suggested by Rev. Cameron in his address before the Young People's Union, a plan to meet these conditions was at last fixed upon, the main points of which were as follows: That a society or company be organized and incorporated to furnish places of recreation and education for young men and women; the place to be fitted with gymnasium, library, reading rooms, social parlors, a large auditorium and smaller cla.s.s-rooms for work along special lines. There should also be a department where men out of employment might earn something to eat and a place to sleep, by working in wood-yards, coal mines, factories, or farms connected with the inst.i.tution; and a similar place for women. It also provided for a medical dispensary and hospital for the care of the sick. The whole inst.i.tution was to be under the charge of some Christian man who should deliver an address on the teachings of Christ every Sunday afternoon in the large auditorium.

Besides this, Bible cla.s.ses could be organized by different workers as they chose, with this restriction, that no teaching of any particular sect or denomination should be allowed, and only the life and laws of Jesus Christ should be studied. Cla.s.ses in other studies, such as pertain to the welfare or the government of the people, could be organized for those who wished, all educational work being under the supervision of directors elected by the society.

Every department of the inst.i.tution was to be free to the public at all hours. To make this possible, the funds of the Society would be raised from the sale of shares, for which the holder was to pay annually twenty-five dollars. Members of the a.s.sociation were ent.i.tled to one vote in the society for every four shares. It was expected that the department for the needy would be self-supporting.

The purpose and plans of the society were to be fully set forth in a little pamphlet, and placed in the hands of every citizen. The people were to be urged to co-operate with the inst.i.tution by refusing absolutely to give any man, able to work, either food, clothing or lodging, on the ground that he could obtain the needed help by paying for it in labor at the inst.i.tution; and that they further a.s.sist the work by contributing clothing, by employing laborers, and using the products of the inst.i.tution as far as possible.

The office of the Superintendent was to be in direct communication with the police station, and anyone applying for help and refusing to work, when it was offered, would be turned over to the authorities to be dealt with for vagrancy. The hope was expressed that the city would co-operate with the inst.i.tution by contributing liberally for the building fund, and by using the workers in their street-cleaning department.

When the time came to hear the committee's report, the opera house was crowded as it seldom was for any political speech or theatrical display.

The young people from the various societies occupied the front seats on the floor of the house; and back of them, in the dress circles and galleries, were the general public, while on the rostrum were the leading business men, bankers, merchants, and the city officials, together with the committee.

"Look there, Bill," said a saloon keeper, who had come to watch his interest, "look at that. Blast me if there aint Banker Lindsley; and see them reporters. And there's the editor of the Whistler. Say, this aint no b.l.o.o.d.y church meeting; there aint a preacher on the stage.

Them fellers mean business. We've got to watch out if they keep on this tack. And would you look at the people?"